


Get Lost (this is our district)

by FatalViolet520



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: also like this was supposed to be for halloween, but u di d n ot hear that from me hahaha, dont @ me this is the first more scary-ish thing i'm wriitng, poor impulse control and gothic posts on pinterest are the parents of this fic, so i apologise if it sucks big time ;;;, truly you're welcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16528877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalViolet520/pseuds/FatalViolet520
Summary: Hell is not where they are. Hell is in their eyes and it bleeds out the corner of their mouths and they are hell.‘Go to hell,’ they say, and Chan laughs. ‘We can’t. We’re worse off here than in hell, so you go to hell.’ And he smiles when they come close, breath dripping with murderous intent and words that Chan has heard again and again and -‘Get lost,’ Chan hears, then all goes black as the first red rises high in the air.‘This is our district.’





	Get Lost (this is our district)

**Author's Note:**

> ........ very happy belated halloween and and well im terrible at time management and impulse control. pray for me as i attempt 50k words for nanowrimo : ) rated teen and up bc hmm swearing and gothic-ness!! no violence or bloodshed okay guys just like some psychological stuff that is represented as real-life things hmm but well enjoy!! First time im not writing fluff/angst so.............. tell me what you think!!

The sickly white of his uniform always makes him feel like he’s a patient in a hospital with no exit; the colour of it burns into his eyes and the blankness of it gives him the chills. If he has to walk through the school hallways, he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Their gazes are always blank and dead, washed into obedience and made to conform to normativity.

 

“Excuse me,” He mutters, then pushes his way through the body of students without looking up or waiting for them to part. They will never part, and he has learned his way through the years he was left here.

 

Nobody ever comes here willingly. They who are left here are left to rot, left to be brainwashed into normativity so that one day they might perchance see the sunlight that everyone else took for granted. They who are left here have no hope and no voice of their own. The ones who were left behind. The ones who didn’t belong. The ones who have no home. They are not yet corpses but already they rot.

 

He is one of them.

 

Left behind to decay and mold in the darkness, with shadows giving more comfort than anything else ever will. Here, they have no happiness, no hope, no smiles. Here, there is pain and tears and emptiness, and he could reach his hand out for the sky but the sky is always dark grey clouds and he’s learned that there’s no point in doing so. Rain never falls, but the possibility that it might makes him want to say, want to wait for a difference to happen; he never learns. And so he keeps walking the same path, tracing the same steps everyday and doesn’t look up. Over time, he’s lost his bravery and his hope, and the end-sign is in his horizon. Except -

 

“ _What the fuck do you think you’re doing_ ?” The loud voice says, ringing in his ears and breaking the grave monotone of the hallway, and yet no heads turn, ears blocked with fear. He is the only one who looks up, broken by the loudness of it. “You - You fucking _bully_ .” The voice belongs to a boy who looks too small to be standing up to anything, but he is, and his voice is loud and clear and Chan hasn’t heard anyone like that before. “Get your _filthy fucking hands off him_ ,” The boy snarls, and as Chan draws into closer view, there’s someone who looks like a teacher pressing a boy against the wall, cold fire in his eyes.

 

“Who do you think you are?” The teacher says, and the hallway dies down.

 

“ _Not_ a bully,” The boy fires back fiercely, “Unlike you, you little dipshit.”

 

“You’ll regret this,” The teacher says coolly, then leaves. Chan has never seen the teacher before. He has no nametag.

 

“Are you okay?” The boy asks, and Chan watches as he picks up another boy who looks shaken.

 

“My arm hurts, but I’m good,” The other boy says, his voice scratchy with disuse, “I - I’m Han Jisung.” He adds, like he doesn’t know how to say his own name, the words rolling off his tongue with no familiarity; but saying it gives the boy strength, like he isn’t just someone else among the crowd.

 

“Seo Changbin,” The first boy says, and Chan only sees them.

 

They stand out in a crowd of murky indistinguishable greys, a lighter shade of grey and a darker shade of black, a break from the monotone that Chan has come to know. “Who - Where are you from?” Chan suddenly asks as he steps towards them, and he’s startled by his own voice. They look over at him, and he sees something in their eyes he doesn’t recognise for a few moments.

 

It’s life. It’s hope. Burning in their eyes like the first flames of a bonfire that will never burn out come rain or storm.

 

“Not here,” Jisung says, and he looks too young to be here, but there’s an air around him that makes Chan hurt for him even though he hasn’t felt much for anyone. An air that makes Chan think _he’s been places_ and he’s too young to have been but he _has_. Age means nothing in the hellscape that they’re trapped in. “Where are you from?” He asks, and there’s something like guard in his voice, something like wariness in his tone.

 

“Around,” Chan replies slowly, “How - I don’t -”

 

“We’re getting out of here,” Changbin cuts in swiftly. They are words that Chan has never heard, that no one ever dares to utter. They are the words of fools with too much hope, but in his mouth, it sounds final and certain and it is full of conviction of days long gone by. “We have to get out of here. We - We don’t deserve to be here.”

 

“We don’t belong anywhere,” Another voice says, a drawl that sounds more hopeless than it is rough, “Where do you think any of us can go?”

 

“Hyunjin,” Chan says, and the boy looks at him, face perfectly blank but Chan knows better.

 

“Chan-hyung,” Hyunjin acknowledges, and Chan is drawn to the dark maroon stain on Hyunjin’s white uniform. He remembers how Hyunjin got it. Half the school does. No one ever talks about it. The _hyung_ clicks in a little later.

 

“We find where we belong,” Changbin says, “We create somewhere where we belong.” Then he levels gaze with Chan. Something in his gaze burns Chan, and he wants nothing more to _turn_ _away_ , to meld into the crowd and he’s out of his comfort zone, but he can’t tear his eyes away. “All of us,” Changbin says quietly, slowly. The muted silence grows to a buzz in Chan’s ears and he feels oddly dizzy, the ground moving beneath his feet. “ _Hyung_.” Changbin finishes, and his face swims in and out of vision, black patches of his mind burning in his sight.

 

Chan starts to remember.

 

Remembers that he _knows Changbin_. Remembers that he has people with him. Memories come back to him in fragments, things that he’s forgotten - laughing with his friends in the basketball court, being tackled onto the sofa in the common room, walking on the streets at night and feeling the cold air of his skin. The sudden wave of memories crash into him again and again and he squeezes his eyes close, assaulted by what he was made to forget but -

 

He _remembers now_ and _how could he have forgotten that_?

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Changbin says, and the words hang in the sullen air as the dark day ends and evening falls in one fell swoop. There are no hallway lights. Broken, by generations before them, and never replaced because there was no need to. “Hyung, do you remember?” Changbin asks, and for the first time there’s some fear in his voice, urgency in each word he speaks.

 

Chan looks at him, eyes glazing over, but he _does_ , he _remembers_ , and it slides into place. “Jisung,” He breathes, “Jisung, are you okay? Did - Did it go okay? Is he okay?”

 

“I’m good,” Jisung says, “I know where it goes -  I just got caught sneaking around just now - but hyung, Felix - Felix hasn’t come back. He - He’s supposed to be the last one to come back, I know, but we haven’t seen him in days.” Jisung says days, but it could have been weeks. Months. Time doesn’t exist here and the clocks only tick down to their impending doom, infinite in its deadly monotone.

 

“The rest of us are around,” Hyunjin says softly, because the night is more dangerous than the day, and walls gives them no protection, “I know where everyone is, but if we’re gonna do it tonight -” He looks at Chan, eyes fierce and face no longer blank, “- we find everyone and we go out together.”

 

“Nine or none,” Chan says, and saying it strengthens him. _He’s not alone_. He was never alone. He has eight brothers standing next to him in a place worse than hell and they can only go up from here. “You guys know what to do,” He murmurs and they each tap his shoulder as they pass on, each touch fiery hot and alive.

 

“What are you doing out here?” A booming voice echoes towards him, and Chan breathes in deeply, assuming the blank face and empty gaze that makes him no different from anyone else. “Who are you?” The teacher asks roughly, and shoves Chan against the wall.

 

Another bruise will be added to the ones already mottled on his skin, but Chan forces himself to remain still, stare over the teacher’s shoulder and remain indifferent. The words that comes up from the teacher’s mouth are words that Chan has heard over and over again, and they once hurt him badly. They still hurt now, but it gets easier, gets better; Chan has good things to cling on to and they sparkle like stars he remembers seeing a long time ago.

 

He escapes the teacher’s grimy hands a few minutes later and for the first time, stares the teacher in the eye as they melt into the shadows, waiting. Chan forces himself to look away and shuffle along the seemingly empty corridor. The corridors are never empty and they breathe of life they suck from the students, but Chan won’t be one of them again. Not now, not ever.

 

There’s only one other person in the hallway walking towards him, and Chan looks up.

 

“Watch where you’re going,” The guy mumbles as he knocks into Chan and slips something into his hand.

 

“ _Minho, okay_?”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine, whatever,” Minho replies loudly, and catches Chan’s gaze. There’s a small smile that plays over his lips, then he’s gone, disappearing into the hazy mist of the corridor.

 

 _Everyone’s here_ , the slip of paper says, _send the note and we’ll meet_ . Chan looks up, and the same thought revolves in his mind like light and shadow, playing drum beats on his heart. ‘ _We’re getting out tonight_ ’, he thinks, and the thought burns in his chest, tastes strong on his tongue, and just imagining it gives him so much hope he never thought he’d have.

 

The first hints of their planned escape doesn’t go unnoticed. Minho and Jisung are questioned when they’re caught lurking in a stairwell; Chan has to extricate Jeongin who managed to get himself into a fight on Woojin’s behalf; Felix turns up injured and Hyunjin has to patch him up while Seungmin keeps a lookout from outside the forbidden infirmary. It’s a miracle that they even have one in the first place.

 

“Chan-hyung gave us the red notes,” Changbin says as he arrives outside the infirmary, having taken a long detour to avoid what can be avoided and looking worse for the wear, “We get out tonight,” He mouths, because there are ears in the walls and they can’t trust anyone.

 

“Felix?” Seungmin asks softly, “Felix, are you okay?”

 

Felix nods jerkily, looking out of it. “Ye - Yeah. I just - don’t remember what I did...” He says, trailing off as he stares into the distance, eyes moving in and out of focus.

 

“Felix,” Seungmin repeats urgently, then he looks at the other two. “We need to go. _Now_. They did the same thing to Felix as they did to Jisung weeks ago, and you know that stopped us… We have until after midnight to get out before Felix will drop.” The drop, as they named it, wasn’t as scary as it sounded, but it was enough to make Jisung pass out for ages without knowing when - or if - he would wake up. He did, eventually, but couldn’t remember what happened before that. It had stopped them from escaping the last time, and with Jisung’s memories erased, they had to replot everything and find how to escape again.

 

“No,” Changbin says vehemently, “Not going to happen to Felix, or anyone. Let’s go.”

 

The four of them make quick steps down the floors. Four floors. Eight flights of steps. Eight chances for them to be caught and questioned and delayed. “All together,” Hyunjin reminds them, then they fly down the stairs, moving fast enough so that the white bleakness of their uniform isn’t as eye-piercing as it could be. “Nearly there,” Hyunjin pants as they move into the first floor, feet sliding against the darkness that seems to manifest physically with each passing moment.

 

“Who goes there?” A voice suddenly says, but they move on, paying little attention to it. Then, other voices -

 

‘ _Take me with you_ ,’

 

‘ _You must not leave_!’

 

‘ _Do you think you can truly escape? You belong nowhere, boys…_ ’

 

“Fuck the hell off!” Felix snaps as the dark curls around his ankles. The loud words shatter the growing voices and they make it down, bursting out of the cramped stairwell into the ruined common area.

 

“You’re here,” Woojin says, and the rest of them step out of the lingering shadows into the light of the moon filtering through the grimy windows. “We were gonna go get you in a few more minutes,” He adds as they all move to see each other.

 

Felix, with his neck and arms bandaged; Minho and Jisung, ruffled and looking slightly punch-drunk but fire still lit; Hyunjin with more stains adorning his white uniform; Woojin and Chan have bruises blooming on their skin, dark mottle visible through the white; Jeongin looks shaken but stands tall, cheeks sunken and tired; Seungmin’s hands are bloody but he doesn’t remember whose blood it is - he’s healed so many but he is not pure; Changbin looks as tired as he feels, years he doesn’t remember ageing etched on his forehead, but time does not exist in here.

 

“All accounted for,” Chan says, and though his voice is small it echoes throughout the common room, “Jisung?”

 

“Let’s go,” Jisung says, and picks up the nearest book casually. Minho produces a lighter that he passes to Jisung, and they all stare it for a while; Jisung flicks the lighter and holds it close to the book, watching the paper curl and burn. Then - he hurls it at the window with surprising ferocity, body tipping forward with the force of it.

 

The window shatters, but it makes no noise, the glass fading into the night. The first gusts of night air rushes in, but they don’t have time to enjoy it. “Hurry,” Jeongin urges as they all pass through the window and out onto the tarmac road. “This way,” He whispers, and they gravitate right, walking along the road and not daring to look back at where they came from.

 

‘ _Is it really this easy_?’ Hyunjin thinks warily, but then they’ve passed out from the grounds and the forest and out of the chain-link fence and all of a sudden -

 

 _They’re out_.

 

The chain link fence melts into the dark haze as they leave it behind, though the wide, open space of the abandoned parking lot doesn’t give them much reassurance. Around them, only the musky street lamps glow dimly, but then there’s a fierce clap (of what? Thunder? Something else?), and something glows bright white in the distance. From what Seungmin can make out, it seems vaguely vehicle-shaped, and he’s just about to point this out when an airhorn blares into the once silent night.

 

“Watch out!” Woojin says sharply over the din of the noise, then suddenly, they’re flooded with bright white light of an intensity they haven’t felt in ages.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Changbin hisses, but Seungmin’s pointing forward, and running. Everyone follows as the light grows stronger and stronger, the darkness creeping at the edge of the light and waiting for its turn.

 

“Get up!” Chan yells as he unlocks the van door with shaking fingers and topples into it.

 

“ _Up_!” Woojin says feverishly, waiting by the door and counting as everyone passes him by.

 

“Woojin!” Chan calls from inside.

 

“Get on,” Woojin says harshly, “Start driving! I’ll make it -” He says, then the lights die out abruptly, without warning just as Felix scrambles on.

 

“ _Hyung_!” Minho shouts desperately, lunging towards the back.

 

“Woojin-hyung?” Changbin asks, sounding more fearful than he’s ever been, and all that Chan can think of is _we’ve lost someone, we’ve lost Woojin, we’ve_ -

 

“I’m good!” Woojin says loudly as Minho pulls him up, and the clang of the door shutting tells everyone they’re safe. For now.

 

Chan lets out a breath, trying to calm himself down as he drives blindly ahead, not knowing where to go. “Jeongin? Jisung? Where do we go -” He cuts himself off as another chain-link fence blooms out of the darkness, and he panics. “ _Fuck_ \- I don’t - I can’t -”

 

And they crash through the chain-link fence with no rest, no brake and Chan’s life flashes before his life as he yanks on brakes that don’t work, yet -

 

 _The fence doesn’t break like he expected it to_. Their van doesn’t dent and stop. Nothing breaks but -

 

The fence shatters into a tiny million pieces and a new world blossoms in front of their eyes like a myriad of sunrises distilled into one glorious moment. The fence glows around their van, sparkling like millions of tiny little crystals, then it seals behind them, taking the last vestiges of darkness with it and it crackles loudly. A warning that they’ve barely escaped. They’re silent for many moments, hearts in their throat and hands clammy with cold sweat. Where they are now, is still dark, but it isn’t oppressive. It looks like a small town with an overcast sky, not cold but not friendly either.

 

“Where - Where are we?” Felix breaks the silence first, wide-eyed.

 

“I - I think this is it,” Jisung answers shakily, “We - We’ve escaped. The place where we need to go now - it’s through here.” Chan drives forward slowly, wheels rumbling over the rough tarmac and small rocks, but Woojin’s looking back, peering from the side window.

 

“We - came through?” Woojin asks, but no one answers.

 

From where they’ve just come, the rift freezes and burns alternatively, like its angry it let them through and somehow - somehow he knows that where they’ve come from, that world is set on fire. The darkness and the morbidity and the world burns behind them, but they don’t care. They have their district. They have each other.

 

Whatever they have to do next - they’ll do it, as long as they have each other.

**Author's Note:**

> now that you've read that monstrosity please tell me what you think!!!! as always, have a great day guys ^.^ i'll be posting the next part either tomorrow or the day after, so i hope you look forward to it!! a short multichap~~~ before i concentrate on nanowrimo hehe


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